Fire and Blood
by triceratopshawkeye
Summary: WARNING: theme- rape. (however, *nothing* is described- it doesn't get *that* far) however, if you think it should be rated higher, message me, and I'll change it. DISCLAIMER: I don't own Being Human. UK. Mitchell/OC. Supposed to be set at the begining of S1E4, where Mitchell meets Leonie rather than Bernie, although I doubt you'll be able to tell. PLEASE REVIEW FOR SECRET BONUS!
1. Chapter 1

Mitchell left the house, heading right, on his way to pick up another packet of cigarettes. He walked quickly, pulling the collar of his jacket up to shield him from the wind. As he approached an alleyway he heard a whimper as flesh smacked against flesh. As he reached the opening of the alley he smelt blood. Anxious to continue staying 'clean', he took a step away from the direction of the scent.

He made it two steps before he heard her cry out.

He quickly turned back the way he came, running down the alley, tracking the scent. He needn't have bothered; after turning left once he saw them: the girl and her rapist.

Leonie

I was afraid. I tried to fight back, but he was too strong. He took me by surprise and dragged me down here. You always hear about these things on the news, but never for one second do you think it'll be you.

My attacker pushed me forwards and I stumbled, and fell to the floor. In response, my ankle screamed in pain. I whimpered pathetically, begging for him to let me go. I couldn't believe myself. He'd taken what- two minutes?

Two minutes and I was broken.

He hit me again; his strikes hard and fast. I begged him to stop over and over, but he just silenced me with a swift slap to my cheek. He brought his face close to mine and tugged my hair to make me look at him.

"You will keep quiet bitc-"

He didn't finish his sentence; his head was knocked to the side by a strong force. My eyes darted upwards to see a man, his hands balled into fists. I tried to rearrange my ripped dress, and salvage what little dignity I had left.

"What do you want?" I asked him, afraid of what he might do to me.

"Well, I just saved you from being raped, so I think it's pretty obvious I don't want to hurt you." The words fell out of his mouth, encased in a blanket of Irish charm.

"Not nessicarily." I snapped. "What's to say you don't want to do exactly what he'd planned to do?"

It surprised me how quick I seemed to have recovered from this event- although it could just be that the shock hadn't sunken in yet.

"Surely if I'd planned on doing that, I would've let you fight him, allow him to finish with you, and then come and collect you afterwards, when you'd have little strength to resist."

I wasn't sure whether to be scared or relieved.

"For someone who's never thought about that before, you seem to have an awfully good plan."

"Who says I haven't thought about it before?" He winked.

Definitely scared.

He held out his hand. I took it and he pulled me up. I winced as I put weight on my ankle, before opting to stand only on my right leg.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's probably just a sprain. I didn't go willingly, you know."

He chuckled.

"I gathered. Can you walk?"

"I'll be fine." I insisted, wanting to get away from him as soon as possible.

"Come on then." He turned around as if to leave.

"Wait!" I called. "What about him?" I protested, pointing at my attacker, laying a few feet behind me. Not checking to see if he'd acknowledged my request, I hobbled towards my attacker, very slowly, and lowered myself to the floor. His face was masked with black wool; crudely cut holes for his eyes and mouth. I grabbed it and pulled it off. Bradley?

I looked up to see the Irishman staring down at me questioningly.

"My brothers best friend."

Bradley. He practically lived round our house for Christ sakes. Bradley, who was like a brother to me, had tried to rape me.

"Seriously?"

The reality of the situation finally got to me; I burst into tears. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and he knelt down beside me. I don't know what it was, but I wasn't scared of him anymore.

"You might not want to watch this." He whispered. I looked at Bradley's face, his eyes just flickering open, and wasn't scared of anyone anymore.

"No." I told him. "I _will_ watch."

He nodded, and grabbed Bradley's collar and shook him awake. He dragged Bradley, pushed him up against a wall, and I watched as his eyes turned from fear to pain. I felt no guilt.


	2. Chapter 2

Mitchell

She was strange. Different even. She didn't seem scared of me.

Of course, she doesn't know what I am yet. She doesn't know that I'm not human.

George calls his condition a curse. But for me, it's something more complicated than that.

George hates what he is. But you see, the main problem for me is that sometimes I enjoy it.

Blood. Enjoyment. Sometimes these words blur together too much, until they become the same. For a vampire, the line between the two is a fine one, and is easily broken.

But that's not why vampires give in to the thirst. Of course, primarily it's the hunger. The need for warm, fresh blood inside your mouth. But the hunger is nothing compared to what comes next: the memories. The faces of everyone you've ever killed. There's nowhere to hide- the only way to escape is by creating more of these memories, by drinking more and more blood, in a horrific, vicious circle.

No matter how secure you think you are- how long you've been clean- you will always return to being a bloodthirsty monster. And that's what I have to deal with.

If I can't handle it, who else will?


	3. Chapter 3

Leonie

He pulled me to my feet, his hands slightly bloody from his attack on Bradley.

"Mitchell." He smiled, as he draped my arm over his shoulder.

"Leonie." I replied. "Mitchell? That can't be your real name."

"It's not. Everyone calls me by my last name."

"Like in the army?"

"Sort of, yeah, I guess,"

"Well, what's your first name? That's the name your parents gave you, and that's the name I'll call you by."

"John."

"Well, thank you, _John_."

We left Bradley, and the alleyway behind us, and walked out onto the main road. People eyed us suspiciously (not wrongly- I was wearing a ripped dress, and John had blood on his hands), so I tugged on his shirt to get his attention.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think I'm going to be able to make it home without at least a couple of people calling the cops on you."

"I'm getting that vibe too," He replied. "Look, I know we've just met, but you can't walk far on that leg and that-" He pointed to my ripped dress "-will surely just attract the 'wrong sort'."

"Yeah..." I sighed. "Look, John, this might seem like a bit of a stupid question, but why are you even helping me? Why didn't you just leave me with _him_? There's no reward for you- I've got nothing to give you."

"I wasn't going to help at first. I smelt the blood, you see. Your blood."

"Then what made you?"

"I heard you cry out for help. You were afraid. Sure, everyone's been afraid before, but you reminded me of-" He stopped, and then blanked out for a second.

"Reminded you of who?" I asked him, waving my hand in front of his face.

"Oh- no one- don't worry." He said hurriedly, pushing a strand of his black, curly hair behind his ear. "Look, I was thinking, the least I can do is offer you some clean clothes- and, if you want it, a bed for the night?"

"The _least _you could've done was to call the police on Bradley. You went much further, and I'm extremely grateful for that. Until I can save you from some horrific monster, I'll be in your debt."

"Well then, I guess some new clothes and a bed for tonight won't make much difference to that debt." He grinned.

"I guess not," I said, returning his smile. "Lead the way, John!"


	4. Chapter 4

Mitchell

"You reminded me of-" I froze, not wanting to have to explain about _her._ She who I hadn't thought about in years.

Alice: my first.

It had happened on a street not dissimilar to this one. The dirty grey paving slabs were no different to that day, nearly one hundred years ago. I tried, but could not stop the memories from coming back. All of a sudden, I felt a man's hand on my shoulder, and at once I knew who it was.

"Now, go get her!"

Herrick was dressed in a plain suit, his arm around me. This would be the first time I drank from someone who was still conscious.

"Go on!" Herrick said eagerly.

I nodded, and turned away from him. I wanted to make Herrick proud today. He'd put so much trust in me- so much so that anything other than a complete success wouldn't be good enough.

I kept walking. She was out of sight now, but my heightened sense of smell was able to determine her whereabouts.

I took a left when I reached the crossroad, and I saw her, just in front of me, waiting at the bus stop. Just like Herrick had told me. There was no way I could fail now.

I pulled my knife out from my coat pocket, but kept it hidden beneath the material. Each step moved me closer to her; I was the cheetah, the hunter, stalking her- my prey- and nothing could stop me now I had her here.

"Don't move," I whispered into her ear, as I pressed the edge of my knife into her back. It stunned me that I enjoyed her reaction: I felt her pulse quicken, her breathing turn shallower, her hands start to shake.

"What do you want?"

It was a brave question, but poorly executed. Her voice trembled, betraying her.

"Would you like the truth or a lie?" I smiled.

"The truth, please," She said, as her voice cracked.

"You're sure?"

She nodded.

"You're going to come with me, down that alleyway, and I'm going to tear out your throat and drink your blood. And after all that, if you don't die, I'll turn you into what I am. A vampire."

"Look," She started to turn around to face me, so I pushed the blade into her, releasing a little blood. She winced, and slowly returned to her original position. "Look, I get it. The war's messed with your head. My husband was the same for a bit-"

"The war's done more than to just mess with my head, lady." I opened my mouth into a wide smile; I let my fangs appear, and my eyes turn black. Shocked, she stumbled forwards, and I flung my free arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me.

"I can still scream for help." She insisted, her heart rate ever increasing.

"No." I told her. "You can't."

The passing citizens all turned their heads to look at us.

"Help! Please!" I let her shout. A cruel grin appeared on my face, as I knew what would happen next.

In unison, all their eyes turned black. I felt her weaken as she realised there was no hope left.

Herrick's plan was working smoothly.

"Look..." She gestured for my name.

"Mitchell." I replied.

"Look, Mitchell. I get it. You're going to kill me. But could you just promise me one thing?"

"What?"

"Don't turn me into something like you."

We walked into the alleyway, and before my feet had made ten steps, I bared my fangs once more, and sunk them deep into her flesh. She whimpered and cried out for me to stop, but I couldn't. I wouldn't.

I drank. Her blood was sweeter, warmer, and smoother, than anything I'd ever had before (even if the majority of what I'd had already was only blood from dead soldiers on the battlefield). I drank more. The blood slipped down my throat so naturally; the sensation it gave me felt so _right_. I drank too much. Her pulse- before, so strong- now began to fade. It became weaker and weaker until all her blood was gone.

It just occurred to me; I never knew her name. I'd killed her, yet I didn't know her name. I forced my hands down into her pockets, searching for some kind of ID. I pulled out a photo of her and her husband.

"Mrs Alice Ritchies," I mumbled as I kissed my fingers. "May you rest in peace." I finished, laying them over her forehead.


	5. Chapter 5

Leonie

John opened the door to his house, and held it open for me.

"George'll still be at work, so it'll just be you and me... If you're okay with that?" He asked me.

"John, I'm not afraid of you."

He nodded, and pushed the door open. I followed him in, and was surprised to see that the house wasn't empty. Sat on the sofa was a girl, a year or so older than me.

"Ooh, who's this?" She asked, and waved at John. _I am here_, I thought. _You could just ask me_. He didn't pay her any attention, which confused me.

"John?" I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yes?" He answered, hanging up his leather jacket on a coat hooks.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?"

He turned around, and I could see he was perplexed.

"Sorry- introduce who?"

"Us..." I pointed at myself and then the girl.

John took two large steps towards me, and grabbed the top of my dress. He tugged me violently towards him, and burrowed his face into my neck.

"John!" I squealed. "Get off!"

The girl stood up and ran over.

"Mitchell! Stop it!"

Despite our protests, he didn't let go; instead, he inhaled my perfume. He let go and dropped me to the floor.

"Okay, very clever." He snarled. "You've found some way of masking your scent. Show me what you are."

"I don't..." I screwed up my face as I tried to understand what John was talking about. As I did so, he kicked me.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" He shouted, kicking me once more. He wasn't _John_ anymore. The girl tugged on his shoulder, begging him to stop.

"Mitchell, she doesn't know anything." She insisted. "Look at her- _really_ look- she's scared. She doesn't know about us."

He stood, unmoving, but didn't take his eyes off of me.

"Mitchell. She doesn't know."

She tugged on his sleeve, and pulled him out into the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

Mitchell

"What is wrong with you, Mitchell?" Annie snapped at me. "I mean it's bad enough that you've brought someone back here- but to attack them like that... What on earth were you thinking?"

"She could see you. She's dangerous to us, Annie." I protested.

"What do you mean I could see her?"

Leonie appeared at the archway into the kitchen. All my senses told me she was hiding something- she wasn't human, and could not be trusted.

"Hello," Annie smiled. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Leonie ignored her, and kept her eyes fixed on me.

"What do you mean I could see her?" She repeated.

"Exactly that- you could see her."

"You sounded surprised! I mean, hell, you threw me on the floor."

"That's because I'm a ghost."

With the last word, Annie took her hands out of her pockets and unfolded them into jazz hands.

"Okay..." Leonie replied. "But surely if you could see- sorry, I don't know your name."

"It's Annie." She smiled.

"Okay- so surely if you could see Annie, why would you attack me for being able to see her too?"

"Because the only people who can see Annie are supernatural."

"Supernatural? Like vampires and stuff?"

"Bingo."

"Wait- so you're a vampire?" She raised her eyebrows.

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" I said, starting to get impatient.

"Really? You don't look like a-"

Leonie stopped mid-sentence, staring into my now black eyes.

"Do I look like one now?" I hissed. "So now you know what I am. And I think it's only fair that you show me what you are."

"I can't."

"Can't? Or won't?"

"I can't-"

"Then just fucking tell me!" I shouted.

"I'm not supernatural! Why won't you listen to me?"

"How else do you explain your ability to see Annie?"

"I can't." She sighed.


	7. Chapter 7

Leonie

It was all too much to take in. Ghosts, Vampires- and hell, who knows what else- were real. But surely if they were, there must be some good supernatural beings- right?

"No." John told me. "We're it."

I hadn't even realised I had been thinking aloud.

"What d'you mean you're it?"

"We're as good as it gets."

"Mitchell doesn't drink blood." Annie explained. "And at most George- he's a werewolf- will only eat a squirrel or two."

"Well, of course that makes everyone loads better. Two monsters that kill people- but only some of the time. Well, have a fucking gold star. You've _killed_ people, John."

"Not anymore."

"Is that going to bring them back? They're dead because of you. They don't get to live a life. So why is it that you can? People like you don't deserve a normal life. You deserve a life of suffering. You all do."

"Annie and George haven't killed anyone."

"Not yet, maybe. But who knows what they'll do under your influence?" I argued. "How many people have you killed?"

"Too many."

"And there we have it." I said. "Can you promise me you won't kill anyone ever again? Can you promise me you're not dangerous anymore?"

John paused for a moment.

"No." He replied, truthfully.

"You selfish bastard. If you know that, then why are you still here, talking among us? Why are you still walking the streets? You're an animal, John. It's time to put you back in your cage."


End file.
